Chapter 34
thirty-four
. . .
Natalie
The knock on my door startles me.
I’m still in my pajamas on the couch, working on notes Rebecca asked for on a potential second season of Spellbound. Just preliminary thoughts, character arcs we could explore, nothing formal.
Except I can’t focus. My pen hovers over the notebook, the same sentence half-finished for the past twenty minutes. My mind keeps drifting back to Jake and what I’m going to say when I finally call him. To the speech I’ve been rehearsing in my head.
I’m sorry. I was scared. I love you. Please give me another chance.
The words are right there, pressing against my ribs, demanding to be spoken. I just need to be brave enough to pick up the phone. To admit I was wrong. To tell him what I should have said a week ago when he was on one knee in front of me with his heart completely exposed.
Today. I’ll call him today.
My heart skips at the thought, nerves and anticipation tangling together in my chest. I set the pen down, my fingers trembling slightly.
The baby’s been kicking all morning, restless. I press my hand to the spot where her foot keeps jabbing my ribs.
“I know, I know,” I mutter. “You’re running out of room.”
The knock comes again. More insistent.
I wrap the blanket around me in an effort to disguise the fact that I’ve not gotten ready for the day yet and heave myself off the couch. Everything takes twice as long when you hit nine months.
Blair and Wyatt are standing on my doorstep.
“Hey,” I say, surprised. “What are you guys doing here?”
Blair’s face is pale. Wyatt’s jaw is tight, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Can we come in?” Blair asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I step aside, and something cold starts to creep up my spine. “Is everything okay? Is it the house? Do you need to do repairs, or…are you selling it?”
The panic hits me all at once. I can’t move right now. I’m almost nine months pregnant, I don’t have time to find a new place and pack and—
“It’s not the house,” Wyatt says.
They’re both just standing in my living room now, and neither of them is moving to sit down. Blair’s hands are twisted together. Wyatt won’t meet my eyes.
“Okay, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Can we sit?” Blair asks gently.
“Sure. Yeah. Sit.”
We all settle—me back on the couch, them in the chairs across from me. The silence stretches out for what feels like forever.
“Have you talked to Jake recently?” Wyatt asks finally.
The question catches me off guard. I try to keep my face neutral. “We’ve both been busy. Why?”
“Natalie.” Wyatt leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I know about Valentine’s Day.”
The words hit like ice water.
“Oh,” I manage.
His eyes are warm, understanding, and hold no blame or judgment.
Blair moves from her chair to the couch, sitting next to me. Her hand finds mine, and that’s when I know. That’s when the real panic starts clawing up my throat. My heart kicks into overdrive, slamming against my ribs. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.
“Why are you asking if I’ve talked to Jake?” My voice sounds strange, too high. “What happened? Is he okay?”
Wyatt’s face is grave. “There was an accident.”
The room tilts.
“What kind of accident?”
“He went home to Connecticut. To see his mom. Went out for a run yesterday morning and slipped on ice. Hit his head.” Wyatt pauses, and I can see him choosing his words carefully. “He has swelling in his brain. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma to keep the pressure down while it heals.”
The words don’t make sense. My brain refuses to process them. Accident. Coma. My mind is screaming. My chest constricts, a crushing weight pressing down until I can’t breathe. My hands start shaking. The room feels too small, the air too thin.
I’m standing before I realize I’m moving. “I need to go. I need to get to Connecticut. Where is he? What hospital?”
“Nat—” Blair’s up too, her hands on my shoulders.
“I need to see him. I need—” I’m looking around for my phone, my keys, my bag. My thoughts are jumbled, none of them making sense, all of them screaming the same thing: Jake. I need to get to Jake. “I can book a flight. Or I can drive. How long does it take to drive to Connecticut? I can—”
“You can’t fly,” Wyatt says quietly.
“I don’t care—”
“The airlines won’t let you on the plane. Not this far along. It’s policy.”
“Then I’ll drive. I’ll leave right now. I just need to pack a bag and—”
My breathing is shallow, too fast, my heart racing. My jaw clenches so tight it hurts. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Jake can’t be—
No. I won’t think it. Won’t let the thought form.
“Natalie, stop.” Blair’s voice is firm. She turns me to face her, her hands still on my shoulders. “You can’t drive across the country right now. You’re about to have a baby.”
“He needs me.” My voice cracks, and I realize I’m crying. When did I start crying? The tears are hot, relentless, blurring my vision. My whole body trembles. “He can’t—he has to wake up. He has to be here for the birth. He has to meet his daughter.”
He has to know I love him. That I want him. That I made a terrible mistake and I need the chance to fix it.
“His mom’s with him,” Wyatt says. “And I’m flying out this afternoon. They’re doing everything right, Nat. He’s at a good hospital. He’s getting excellent care.”
“I should be there.” The tears are coming faster now, hot and desperate. My chest heaves with sobs I can’t control. The weight pressing down is unbearable, crushing everything inside me. “I should be the one sitting with him.”
“You need to stay here and take care of yourself and the baby,” Blair says gently. “That’s what Jake would want.”
“Jake would want me there.” My legs feel weak, unsteady. Blair guides me back down to the couch, sitting close beside me. “I made a mistake. I told him I needed space, but I don’t. I don’t need space. I need him.”
“I know,” Blair says softly.
“No, you don’t understand.” I turn to look at her, and everything I’ve been holding back for the past week comes pouring out. “He told me he loved me. He wanted to marry me, for us to be a family. And I panicked. I told him I needed space, and I left. I walked out on him.”
Wyatt’s face is pained. He already knows this, but hearing me say it out loud makes it real in a different way.
“The last thing he heard from me was that I couldn’t do this.
That I needed to be alone.” My voice breaks completely.
“And now he’s lying in a hospital bed unconscious, and I can’t even tell him I was wrong.
That I love him. That I want everything he was offering me, and I was just too scared to say it. ”
Blair pulls me into her arms, and I dissolve. I’m sobbing into her shoulder, my whole body shaking with it. The baby’s moving frantically now, responding to my distress, and that just makes me cry harder.
“He has to wake up,” I manage between sobs. “He has to be okay. I love him so much, Blair. I love him and I never told him and now—”
“He’s going to wake up,” Blair says firmly, pulling back to look at me. “And you’re going to tell him everything. I promise you, Nat. You’re going to get that chance.”
“What if I don’t? What if he doesn’t—”
“He will.” Wyatt’s voice is certain, and when I look at him, his eyes are red too. “Jake’s stubborn as hell. He’s not going anywhere. Not when he has a daughter to meet. Not when he has you to come back to.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly. But the fear is overwhelming, crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Wyatt stands, checking his phone. “I need to head to the airport. My flight leaves in two hours. But I’ll call you as soon as I see him, okay? As soon as I have any news.”
“Tell him—” My voice catches. “Please tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I love him.”
“You can tell him yourself when he wakes up.” Wyatt comes over and squeezes my shoulder. “Hang in there, Nat. He’s going to be okay.”
After he leaves, Blair stays. She makes me tea and sits beside me on the couch while I stare at my phone, waiting for news that doesn’t come. The minutes crawl by, each one heavier than the last. She tries to get me to eat something, but the thought of food makes me nauseous.
My phone buzzes and I grab it immediately, but it’s just my mom asking how I’m feeling. I can’t even begin to answer that question right now, so I set the phone back down without responding.
The baby kicks again, a sharp jab under my ribs, and I press my hand to the spot. She’s been moving constantly since Wyatt and Blair showed up, like she knows something’s wrong. Like she’s asking where her father is.
“He’s going to be okay,” I whisper to her, to myself, to anyone who might be listening. “He has to be okay. Because I love him.”